Strike the Match
by Lizicia
Summary: 'Not for the first time, Elizabeth Keen wondered just how her nights had turned into this madness. When she joined the bureau, she imagined a few late nights at the office. Not the most ridiculous scene of every crime show – making out to avoid getting caught.' Keen/Ressler.
1. Strike the Match

**A/N:** I have no idea, honestly, that Keen and Ressler could be this inspiring. Since this week there will be no episode - and next week's has me worried already - I spent a bit too much time thinking about them and well, here it is. Again, it's not much but my Muse can't be helped.

**Disclaimer:** Jon Bokenkamp, how do you do it?

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"Status update."

"No sign of Mendels yet."

"Be on the lookout, he's supposed to make an entrance soon."

Not for the first time, Elizabeth Keen wondered just how her nights had turned into this madness. When she joined the bureau, she imagined a few late nights at the office and maybe an occasional undercover assignment. But here she was, at a club with flashing lights and loudly pulsating music, all because of a number on the blacklist, and the funny thing was, this felt normal.

"Keen, your three o'clock."

She turned her head towards the direction Ressler indicated, slowly rotating her head and leaning her hand on his shoulder for their supposed cover of a couple at a club.

"Too short. Not him."

He let out a small growl of disapproval. If she had to guess, he wasn't too happy about their latest assignment either. Red's face had practically lit up with joy when he suggested Ressler needed to loosen up for this role.

_"Honestly, Donald, how did you ever make it this far when you always look like Special Agent Ressler?"_

So, here he was, out of his normal suit, in a pair of jeans and a black shirt, looking decidedly normal and, as far as Liz could tell, rather uncomfortable. He didn't do casual or relaxed or anything close to laid-back and the fact that he had to force himself out of his usual persona was grating on his nerves. He hid it well enough for the general public but she could read it on his face. There was no Donald at the FBI, it was only Special Agent Ressler and he felt conflicted at having to mix those two aspects of himself.

"He'll be here."

"Just not quickly enough." He frowned again and she had to fight the sudden urge to reach over and smooth the lines that had appeared on his forehead; honestly, given how prone Ressler was to frown, it was a wonder he didn't already have deeply etched worry lines.

"Someone who could be Mendels just entered the club. Your five o'clock, Ressler." Meera's voice in her ear cut her out of her reverie and she leaned closer to him to casually glance at the direction which had been indicated.

"That's definitely him."

"Okay, stay in position. We need to confirm who his buyer is and we don't want to spook him. Just stay on him."

The man they were eyeing was far enough to hopefully not notice their interested glances but unfortunately also far enough so they couldn't really do anything. He walked the floor with confident steps, moving away from their line of sight, through the people and seemingly knowledgeable about where he was supposed to be going. Within moments, he would disappear and there was a decision to be made.

"Damn it. Come on." Ressler was on the move before she could react and he reached back to grab her hand.

"No time to think about it, Keen."

She didn't protest – had no intention to – as she felt his hand in hers and tried to relax into it. It was a foreign stance for them and she could feel the tension in his fingers as he held her hand; they hadn't really touched before and it took some getting used to.

They passed the throngs of people caught up in dance and no one took particular notice to them. Mendels was moving fast, and she could hear Ressler swear when he disappeared behind a corner.

"What's back there?"

"That was personnel only."

He seemed to contemplate their next move as they reached the same corner Mendels had turned and found a small secluded alcove which ended with a door, adorned with a sign confirming what she'd just said. _Personnel only_. She saw him weigh the pros and cons.

"I'm willing to risk it."

He turned a disbelieving gaze at her. "We have no way of knowing what's there, Keen. It could be a room full of armed guards."

She shrugged and returned his gaze, releasing her hand from his hold to cross her arms defiantly. "Or it could just be a hallway. I saw the building plans, I remember them. We can't just stand out here; he could be meeting with the contact in there. There won't be another opportunity like this."

He wasn't pleased but she could see that he knew they really had no alternative. "Fine."

He turned the handle slowly and the door opened easily; it hadn't been locked. It did lead to a small hallway and there were a few more doors on each side. One of them was open and as they reached it, Ressler raised his hand to let her know to stop. She leaned towards the door, trying to get a good look.

Just a few feet from them, Mendels was talking to a redheaded man, dressed in all black. Their voices were low and the words they exchanged couldn't be heard but it didn't matter; they both had a good look at his contact.

Ressler signalled for her to take out the small camera, courtesy of the CIA, and she followed his lead, slightly reaching out her hand to take the pictures. Whoever the man was, he would be their next lead to John Laskey, no. 57 on Red's list. Mendels was the middle man who took care of the technicalities; the stranger was probably Laskey's unidentified right hand man.

She pulled back and indicated that they should leave; just as soon as she'd turned, the floorboards creaked tenatively beneath her and she froze in place. She could hear all conversation cease and as she turned her gaze towards Ressler, it was obvious they were both thinking the same thing. They needed to be gone.

As they made their way towards the door, she could suddenly hear Meera's voice in her ear. "Get out, now! A guard is approaching from the club and he'll be on you in seconds."

She could hear Mendels and his mystery guest walking towards the door and estimated they could get out of the door before they were made but couldn't leave the alcove without being caught by his bodyguard.

One look at Ressler made it clear he understood the predicament they were in and he was working on finding a way out.

As soon as they were out the door and it fell shut behind Ressler, he grabbed her hand and pushed her against the wall next to it. She looked up at him, confused, and found him a lot closer than she had expected. This was suddenly the most ridiculous scene of every crime show and cop drama she had ever seen – making out to avoid getting caught. She had no idea this really could happen and Ressler must have seen the slight edge of panic on her face as he knew what she must have been thinking.

"Relax, Keen. I'm not going to actually kiss you. Just go with it, okay."

And with that, he stepped even closer and his head dropped to her neck. She could feel his hot breath there and froze but willed herself to relax as she realized he really had no intention to do anything, rather than make it seem like they were doing something.

One of his hands sneaked around her waist, pulling her closer, as he placed the other on her hip, hiked her already short dress a few inches up and slid his knee between her legs, still managing to keep it respectable. It all happened within seconds and she was aware of both the bodyguard approaching them and the door opening. Ressler didn't react, didn't even flinch and she could hear him whisper _drunk_ and understood immediately, her eyes sliding half-shut and adopting what she hoped was a perfectly alcohol-influenced expression.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders and she let out a small happy giggle and a gasp, just enough to be heard by everyone.

"God, you smell so nice." His words had a slightly slurred quality to them and she giggled more as his hand caressed small circles on her hip, the heat emanating from the hand and his words making her feel like she had actually been drinking.

"Mmmm." She hummed contently and in a moment of pure improvisation, buried her hand in his hair and pulled his head slightly back. The character in her focused her gaze on his lips as if prepared to pull him closer for a kiss; as her gaze met his, she noticed that his eyes were impossibly blue and a bit startled and she could feel the hand on her hip clench the tiniest bit as he ever so slowly moved closer.

"Who the hell are you?"

Mendels' voice startled them both and they turned to look at him, still managing to maintain the drunken happy person expression.

"Look, man, me and my girl just wanted some private time."

Ressler then gave the other man a lascivious smile and leaned closer, as if to let him in on a secret. "I mean, wouldn't you want private time with all _this_?"

His words were the appropriate amount of lewd and leering because Mendels slid his eyes over her form and she could see the glint of appreciation in them, making her feel like taking a very hot bath. "Find somewhere else."

Ressler nodded and pulled her away from the wall and she let herself be manhandled, knowing that for a man like Mendels, women were a commodity, not people.

She didn't breathe properly until they were out of the club and it was then that she noticed Ressler's arm still around her waist, holding her close. The moment she did, so did he and he stepped away with an apologetic look right before they made their way towards the car.

"You okay?"

Meera's voice in her ear surprised her; she'd completely forgotten her presence in this operation and for a brief moment wondered whether the other agent had heard everything and what she would make of it.

"Yeah. We got the photos."

"Good."

A resounding click signalled the end of communication and she pulled her earpiece out, letting out a shuddering breath.

"That was close."

"At least we got what we went in for. That's a good result, Keen."

"Yeah, I guess."

They drove back to the Post Office in relative silence.

"Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"Your quick thinking saved both of us. I just...froze. I was sure we were going to get shot."

"We got the photos. In the end, that's all that matters."

He refused to take her thanks, not even acknowledging what had almost happened and really, there was no reason to. He had resolved a situation quickly and effectively and had managed to not make her feel uncomfortable with it. Nothing more to it.

And if she woke up that night from dreams of hands and lips on her that definitely didn't belong to Tom, she refused to read anything into it.

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**A/N: I hope it wasn't very out of character; maybe I took them to this place too early? Do tell!**


	2. Light It Up

**A/N: I know the story was marked complete because it was very much done but some of you asked so nicely for me to write about Ressler's POV and my Muse went along with it.**

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Donald Ressler felt very much out of place, standing under the vibrating lights of a club, looking at the throngs of people around him, dancing and seemingly having a good time. He would've loved nothing more than to be at home or even at the Post Office but in this very moment, he had a suspect to keep an eye on. A suspect who wouldn't show.

And to top it all off, he had to be undercover with Keen. Keen who wore a dress way too short to be proper, showing off her legs and the tiniest hit of cleavage when she leaned on him to get a proper look at a possible suspect. Keen whose choice of perfume was disconcerting as it enveloped him.

He didn't think he'd said anything but he must have made a noise because Keen gave him a worried look and tried a smile. "He'll be here."

Right, the case. It did upset him that he had to ditch his suit – which gave Red immense pleasure as he suggested he needed to _loosen up_. He didn't like the whole undercover thing, had never liked it; he felt safest in a suit, with his badge and gun, proclaiming his right to invoke justice and do what he did best. Sure, sometimes an undercover operation was a necessity but something told him that there was more to this story than Red let on. Ressler could trust him only as far as he could throw him and barely even that much.

"Just not quickly enough," he absentmindedly told Keen, eyes scanning the club but not really seeing suspects. She was standing too close for his comfort, supporting herself slightly with a hand on his shoulder – _undercover as a couple_ – and he frowned, thinking of a way to make her step back. This was not conducive at all.

And at the right moment, Meera's voice cut into his thoughts, advising them both that Mendels had indeed arrived and they needed to stay on him. He could see the man and quickly understood that he was moving faster than they had anticipated and with more sense of direction.

He acted on pure instinct, following Mendels, grabbing Keen's hand – though he had gone for elbow but couldn't take it back now – and pushing their way through the throngs of people. The alcove they ended up in was secluded and private and when Keen suggested they move through the door, he almost admired her courage. And yet, he couldn't keep himself from fighting her, all the while knowing there was no other option.

For a moment there, it seemed to pay off. They got the pictures and were almost in the clear when those damned floorboards creaked under Keen. The look she gave him was terrified and with Meera's warning of a bodyguard's approach ringing in his ears, he knew what had to be done before they even moved from the spot.

It was possible, no, very probable that he was going to regret it but there really was no time to overthink it as he roughly pushed her against the wall and stepped way too close. Judging by the look in her eyes, she was perplexed and then slightly panicking as she figured out what he was about to do.

He wanted to reassure her, to let her know it was all going to be for show. "Relax, Keen. I'm not going to actually kiss you. Just go with it, okay."

She tensed up when he lowered his head but relaxed when she realized he really had meant it. He didn't waste time; this had to look good and plausible, so he hauled her closer to him with an arm around her waist and another on her hip and did not concentrate on how intimate it was as he ever so slightly pushed his knee between her legs and rested it against the wall.

"Drunk," he whispered, hoping she would catch on and when her hands found his shoulders, he knew she had.

And suddenly she let out a small gasp and the world narrowed down to the feel of her body against his, the smell he had been haunted by all night so strong.

"God, you smell so nice." That thought was not supposed to make its way out but at least it fit the cover and he hadn't said her name.

He could feel the hum in her body before it transformed into sound and it transfixed him. It was a voice he didn't think he would ever hear because there would be no reason.

Suddenly, her hand was in his hair and she pulled his head back; the expression on her face startled him. He didn't know if she realized just how wanton she looked in that moment as she eyed his mouth and then looked up at him and his hand at her hip clenched from the look in them. He wouldn't have known his own name, let alone the suspect's and, forgetting all the reasons why this was a very bad idea, he started to move closer, noticing her eyes sliding shut.

Mendels' irate voice to his right suddenly and viciously snapped him back into reality and he didn't have to pretend hard to suggest what he and Keen were about to do. He knew he sounded lewd and inappropriate and he hated how it cheapened the situation but it was enough to get Mendels off their back. It did not mean he didn't have the desire to punch him for looking at Keen the way that he did and to conceal it, he pulled her from the wall and under his arm to leave.

She didn't say anything until they were outside and he noticed he was still holding her close which wasn't necessary anymore so he stepped away. Meera questioned them about the photos and he knew the other agent must've heard things but really didn't care. His focus was still concentrated on Keen, as she slowly came down from the adrenaline and breathed evenly.

Keen tried to make conversation on their way back and it gave him the opportunity to make it about the mission.

"Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"Your quick thinking saved both of us. I just...froze. I was sure we were going to get shot."

"We got the photos. In the end, that's all that matters."

It had gone too far and he needed to stop. They weren't friends, it was just a job where they had to pretend like they were other people and there was absolutely nothing more to it.

He managed to ignore it all the way through the debriefing, through Meera's inquisitive glance which he steadfastly refused to see and when Keen stalled a bit at explaining just how they got away from the club, he kept his mask on. They didn't do anything inappropriate and in the end, they got what they had gone for.

It wasn't until later when he was sitting at a bar, unusual for him as it was, that he let his mind go over the events. He debriefed himself, explaining away her actions, his actions, and rationalizing it as far as he could take it.

"That seat taken?"

The woman who asked him that, gave a small, coy smile and he could've liked her in a different life. She was beautiful and approachable but he wasn't interested in finding out just how approachable.

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay then. I'll be over there if you change your mind."

She left with a serene smile on her face and for a second, he didn't understand her giving up so quickly.

"That was rather uncouth of you, Donald. I thought you were at least a gentleman."

Of course. How could he think he would be left in peace when Reddington sat down next to him, a smug smile on his face.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, so suspicious. Isn't she beautiful, though?"

He eyed the woman again and somehow knew that Red had made her talk to him, had told her to hit on him. The why of it was confusing, though.

"Rather reminds you of someone, doesn't she?"

He took in the blonde hair, the hazel eyes and the overall composure and his fist clenched at the thought of what Red was hinting at. He didn't respond but it didn't deter Red from pushing.

"What was her name again? Alice? Annie? Amanda?"

"Don't you dare." His voice was clipped and angry and he could barely control his emotions; he was sure the glance he sent Red's way gave every idea of just how affected he was.

Red smirked and leaned closer so that only he could hear the next words. "Or, perhaps, your preference has changed, Donald? Someone with darker hair and bluer eyes? What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

The implication hit him like a sucker punch; this was very dangerous territory and for Red to think he knew something made it all the more complicated. "I'm thinking there are seventeen ways I could kill you right now and make it look like an accident, if you don't get up and leave."

Red shook his head slowly as in reproach. "So much anger, Donald. You know that's not healthy."

And he left, leaving Ressler to realize there were some boundaries that could not be pushed for fear of what might happen if they came crashing down. That was a risk he just couldn't take.

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**A/N: Now it's really over. Red demanded to have a scene with Ressler, so I didn't fight it and let him have his say. Do give me your opinion!**


End file.
